


would you stay up to figure this out some way

by orphan_account



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: I'm warming up to them, M/M, Nothing too extra just some softies, Very subtle klance, i love him sm, lance is insecure, this is the leave the math to pidge scene but more intense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-15 13:00:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12321576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: He almost laughed at the thought of howfragilehe is and how he's sitting in his bed like a little kid after a nightmare, expecting his mom to come kiss him on the forehead and sing him a lullaby until he's fast back asleep.The only difference was that his mom was on the other side of the universe.





	would you stay up to figure this out some way

**Author's Note:**

> me, side eyeing the "leave the math to pidge" scene with furrowed brows: could be better
> 
> it's just some langst and sweet klance y'all
> 
> work title is from the song coming over by james hersey

Lance missed home. He has been missing it ever since the first day, ever since they left Earth and ever since they became paladins. He  _ knew  _ what kind of responsibility was on their backs, on  _ his  _ back- and how selfish it would be of him to wash out because he’s a bit homesick. As if the rest of the team isn’t. Well, they probably are. It’s just that none of them ever showed it.

It was gut-wrenching, really. How no one ever expressed their want to go home and how alone he was in this. If being quite honest, he could call himself a  _ coward. _

Some nights Lance found himself waking up in cold sweat, bolting awake in his bed because he had dreamt of dying by the hand of the Galra. Truth was, he was awfully terrified - terrified of not coming home and leaving his family wondering,  _ hoping  _ he was alive and well and maybe just  _ lost  _ and not dead on the bottom of a ditch.

It was one of those particularly scary nights when Lance jolted awake in his bed for a third night in a row. Drops of sweat were already slipping down his temples and tears settled on the corners of his eyes. He blamed it on the sleepiness, though.

His heart was beating against his ribcage like a marching drum while the rest of him stood still. He was afraid to move a single muscle, scared of the warm tears that could pour down from his ocean blue eyes if he even  _ dared _ to do something.

It took about a minute for Lance to get a grip on his surroundings and come to a conclusion that _ , no,  _ he wasn't imprisoned by the Galra, and  _ no,  _ he wasn't bleeding to death.

He almost laughed at the thought of how  _ fragile _ he is and how he's sitting in his bed like a little kid after a nightmare, expecting his mom to come kiss him on the forehead and sing him a lullaby until he's fast back asleep.

The only difference was that his mom was on the other side of the universe.

It was moments like these that made Lance question if being a paladin was really worth it. Yeah, he loved saving lives, yeah he loved being a sharpshooter and a part of a team and  _ sure,  _ being a hero was great. But he would rather be home, saving his own life from Iverson every time he'd catch him and Hunk sneaking out, and he'd rather be his momma's boy and a part of the Lance-Hunk-Pidge team and the king of mastering the simulator.

And although he had a lot of moments of doubt and regret, at the end he would always come back full circle and make the same conclusion; that even if what happen didn't happen, his life was building up to it. Maybe not  _ exactly  _ like this, maybe not having the whole universe on your back, but damn it, he was training for a pilot. His mission was to go out in space and if it was in a spaceship or in a giant blue cat, it didn't matter. Space was his destination in both of the options.

After a lot of brainstorming and a lot of low “be still, my beating heart” whispering in his usual jokester fashion, Lance swung his legs from the bed and casually, as if everything was fine and dandy, slipped on his blue lion slippers (he didn't want to have the read ones as they “didn't match his robe”) and walked out the automatic door of his room.

Did he know where he was going? Absolutely not. Did it matter? Absolutely not.

The hallway was dark, the light snores could be heard from someone's room and even though Lance’s mind was going batshit, at that moment everything seemed so calm. He felt his previously tense shoulders relax as he let out a huff of air.

Lance trotted slowly towards the hangar of his lion, or,  _ well,  _ Red. His chest ached only at the thought of Blue.

The doors slid open and Lance winced, sighing once, before slowly walking in. As he did, right next to Red’s left paw, he saw a well-known mullet.

“How did you get here?”

“Through the door.” Keith prompted, not being startled by the other boy in the slightest.

“Sorry, let me rephrase that,” Lance cleared his throat dramatically, “ _ why  _ are you here?”

Keith shrugged casually, though his shoulders were visibly tense, “Couldn't sleep, I guess.”

Lance blinked slowly, “Oh. Me too.” He fidgeted on his feet awkwardly, which was weird, because he was never awkward. But somehow, he felt uneasy talking to Keith, as if there was some kind of pressure in his chest every time he opened his mouth.

_ Scared,  _ he thought.  _ I'm scared of fucking up. _

“So… you come here often?”

Keith let out a snort, and if Lance was going to be  _ completely _ honest, like a  _ quarter  _ of a giggle, “Was that a pick up line or an honest question?”

Lance grinned at him, “Whatever you want to take it for.”

“I'll take it as an honest question. And the answer is no. Just don't feel good tonight so I thought I'd, you know. Revisit an old friend.”

“Red isn't old. Red is like, middle-aged.”

“You don't know that.”

“You're right, I don’t. I just assumed Red's age. Is that offensive?”

“To a metal lion spaceship? Probably not.”

Lance let out a breath. “Do you miss home?”

For the first time that night, Keith actually reacted. He actually  _ looked  _ at Lance with blown-out eyes and parted lips in a soundless gasp. “I don't. I don't have home.”

“Okay. Okay, then are you scared of not returning back to Earth? Theoretically speaking, if you had something to return to on Earth, would you be scared of not coming back?” Lance felt his throat becoming drier with every word and his eyes becoming more and more blurry with every step forward.

“I would be terrified. But also fueled. Fueled to fight and fight and  _ fight _ until I win and until I can go back home. If I had a home, that is.”

Lance felt weak. Lance felt like a coward.

“Lance? Lance, are you okay?”

He hadn't noticed how close to Keith he had gotten until he was a foot away. He reached for his face, thankful when he felt that his cheeks were still dry of tears. He shifted under Keith's gaze uncomfortably.

Silence. One beat, two beats, three.

“Here. Take this,” Keith almost whispered as he extended his hand, his pinky finger sticking up.

Lance eyed it as if he's eyeing a really odd alien before locking his eyes with Keith's, “What?”

Keith rolled his eyes playfully, “It's a pinky promise. I thought you of all people would know that.”

Lance promptly ignored the last part, furrowing his brows, “What for?”

“It's a pinky promise that- that you're going to come home. That I'm going to make sure of it. That you're going to see your family again.” Pause. “That I'm going to take you home.”

Lance seemed to think it over, but not for long since their fingers were fast intertwined. And coincidentally, stayed like that for the rest of the night.

Lance was scared. Lance was scared and he wanted home. But if this feeling that replaces homesickness whenever he's around a certain mullet head means something, then he can wait. Maybe, just maybe, he found a second home.

Maybe his mom's forehead kisses can be replaced by gently intertwined pinky fingers, maybe the lullaby can be low chattering about absolute nonsense and everything sensible in the same time, and maybe his bed can be the cold floor of the hangar.

  
And maybe the next day when the rest of the team found them lying on the hard floor together, barely inches between their bodies and faces  except for the barely intertwined pinkies, there was still a promise lingering in the air. A promise that was destined to be held.

**Author's Note:**

> howdy my good fellows
> 
> ignore any mistakes/errors im just a foreign, sleep deprived high school student that writes fics instead of studying for a literature exam about poems (yes im shading this fic)
> 
> thanks for reading,, comments and kudos cure my anxiety n I'd love to hear your opinions
> 
> until next time,, whenever that will be,


End file.
